


Something in the Water

by Youremyalways



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Bellarke, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 05:50:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20059066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youremyalways/pseuds/Youremyalways
Summary: “You know I love you, right?”——Clarke is supposed to die for killing Josephine, but things go wrong at the last second. Nobody is more equipped to help Clarke deal with losing a mother than Bellamy Blake.I worked really hard on this and would appreciate you trying it out. Enjoy and get ready for bellarke feelssss





	Something in the Water

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this before 6x12 so this is an au not spec but still pretty much canon verse. Thanks for reading!! Title comes from ‘Mother’s Daughter’ by Miley Cyrus.
> 
> Enjoy & Spread some love xoxoxo

“Clarke Griffin of the earth, ark, and sky people.” Russel started, his voice carrying across the mammoth circumference of the execution ring.

Bellamy froze, his heart sinking to his feet and holding him in place with the emotional weight it carried. He turned slowly, agonizingly, to see Russel and five other guards approaching Clarke, stopping a mere fifteen feet away from her strung up body. The young men stood in a straight line, each balancing the weight of a rifle on their shoulders and pointing them directly at Clarke.

Bellamy sensed Echo and Emori move next to him, and felt more than saw Echo’s firm, comforting hand land on his shoulder. Her touch didn’t mean a thing. Not when the only person he wanted to touch him was about to meet her end. He couldn’t move his eyes from that woman. The one who saved him a hundred times over, and the one who was now lined up to die for trying to do that same damn thing again. 

There was a sniffle to his right, and Bellamy felt his jaw fall slack as he watched Russel move to the left, out of the line of fire.

“It’s too late.” Echo whispered, regret and premature grief lacing her tone. 

The reality of the situation fell onto his shoulders like a thousand moons, his lungs suddenly ten times smaller and incapable of taking anything other than short, labored breaths. He knew it was bad when even Echo’s hardened exterior peeled away, leaving her eyes wet and disturbingly empty. Her breaths were as fractured as his own, and he despised it. He wanted to yell at her to just be stone cold again, to look calm and unaffected. It would make it easier, make it less real. 

But there were tears pouring down her face that forced him to look away from her as fast as he took the initial glance. Instead he found his eyes settling back onto Clarke. 

There was a fierceness to her stance that made Bellamy’s heart ache. Her jaw was raised sharply, like she was challenging them to actually fire the bullets. Her eyes were open and squinted slightly down, tears steadily leaking down the sides of her face, forced to seep into her hair with the tilt of her head. Her mouth was sewn into a straight line, no emotions readable in the smolder. Her arms, as chained as they were, hung freely by her sides. She held herself strong and with dignity, her back straight and head held high. In any other circumstances, he’d be damn proud. 

But right now he could also see acceptance in the openness of her chest and the loose hanging of her fingers. That made him angry. 

“Ms.Griffin is being charged with identity theft,” Russel continued, pacing back and forth with a steady voice, “Harassment, and murder of the first degree.”

If the situation weren’t more serious or emotionally traumatic, then Bellamy would’ve scoffed at that. How can you murder someone that murdered you first?

“Clarke Griffin took my daughter away from us! She killed and embodied one of your Gods!” Russel was suddenly yelling, anger and distress now the most prominent emotions in his voice. 

“We have to do something!” Emori yelled, hitting Bellamy on the arm with the back of her hand, urging him to awake from his trance. 

Bellamy wished they could.

“There’s no way we can get down there fast enough.” Echo whispered, her head dropping low with remorse. 

“There has to be some way-” 

“These crimes are punishable by death!” 

All three of their gazes cemented onto Russel. His face was red with anger, eyes burning furiously as he looked over Clarke like he hadn’t eaten in weeks and she was the last crumb on earth. He was approaching her now, his steps slow and calculated, like a lion prowling deep in the cloak of tall grass, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His hand landed forcefully on the pole she was strung to, settling directly over her shoulder and mere inches away from her head. He kept it there and leaned so close to her that he could undoubtedly feel her breath on his face. 

There was a newfound fear in Clarke’s eyes, and Bellamy wanted to rip Russel apart for putting it there. 

“Any parting words for your people, Clarke?” He bit out, venom in his voice as he took Clarke’s jaw in his hand and forced her to look out at the section of the crowd where her family and friends resided. 

Her sickeningly blue eyes locked with Bellamy’s momentarily and everything froze. Every moving body between him and her solidified, allowing their gazes to see nothing but the other’s eyes. He gasped at the weight of her stare, his heart pounding in his chest so hard and fast it made his body ache. He felt his stomach drop to the floor when she nodded her head minutely, the subtle action holding immense weight. 

This is okay. I am fine with dying. Everything will be okay.

Immediately he shook his head back and forth, tears still steadily soaking his paling cheeks. 

This isn’t okay. I’m not fine with you dying. Nothing will be okay.

After a moment that felt like a lifetime, Clarke’s gaze slid back to Russel, leaving Bellamy with an empty feeling in his body not unlike being suddenly without gravity. He was floating without her grounding pull. 

“Let me say goodbye to my daughter.” Clarke whispered to Russel, whose expression was still tense with unflinching resolve. 

The crack in her voice broke him.

Bellamy’s weight fell forward against the grated fence, his forehead painfully digging into the thin metal wires. Echo’s hand squeezed down on his shoulder, and Emori’s was suddenly landing on his opposite one. 

“Very well.” Russel sneered, but nonetheless gave in. 

He raised his hand at some guard and the entire arena silenced when the gate meer yards away from Bellamy was wedged open just barely. A particularly bulky guard shuffled in and grabbed Madi by the forearms. He pulled her roughly towards himself and the exit. When she gasped out in pain, Bellamy instinctively jumped into action. 

“Hey! Don’t touch her!” He yelled, running towards the pair and shoving anyone in his way aside, feeling the hands falling off of his shoulders simultaneously. 

The guard, a tall and brute man with a thick red beard and long locks of the same auburn colored hair, turned to Bellamy with a sneer. 

“Go.” He lowered his gaze to Madi and grinded his teeth together, spit seeping out through his exposed gums. 

He gave her a firm push out the ajar fence and then practically ran up to Bellamy, his hand slipping to the taser lodged on the gun holder of his belt. He eyed him skeptically, eyes squinting down.

“You better stay in your lane, alien.” The last word was spoken almost like a cuss, but Bellamy couldn’t register it because by the time the syllable escaped the guard’s mouth, he was on the floor in excruciating pain. 

Electricity spread like fire throughout his upper body, ribbons of white hot agony shooting through his chest and making him seethe. His body tossed and turned wildly over the ground on its own accord, cursing falling from his lips. 

It was worth it though, because as soon as he gained back at least partial control of his body, he saw Madi running towards Clarke through the gate, and a second body falling in step right behind her. Light brown hair swung behind the more adult body, the woman’s thin legs carrying her slower than Madi’s youthful, agile form. 

Bellamy’s distraction had allowed Abby to slip through the gate as well and at least gave Clarke the chance to say goodbye to her mother. That was worth it. 

He stood up quickly when bodies started moving in front of him and his vision was subsequently blocked by the boots of several shifting people. He was almost immediately being touched again by a small hand, firm on his shoulder. He could only assume it was Echo or Emori, his eyes refusing to move from where Madi was now jumping into Clarke’s arms. 

Shadows of despair passed over the blonde’s face when she realized she couldn’t wrap her arms fully around her child, the chains yanking harshly at her wrists. Tears poured from her pale face now, and Bellamy swore he could make out the softest sobs. 

Madi’s face remained buried in Clarke’s chest and she seemed to be whispering various reassurances. 

When the dark haired girl pulled away, she was shaking and suddenly appeared so small. Bellamy half expected her to pull some dramatic move that would get them all killed, her instincts lately being clattered and unpredictable. He felt pride deep in his gut when she just ducked her head and walked away. It was the harder thing to do, but it’s what Clarke would’ve wanted. Him too. 

Abby walked up to her afterwards, her hands falling idly on Clarke’s cheeks to frame her face before Clarke buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. Now he definitely heard sobs. She appeared so vulnerable like this, so weak. It was vastly unlike the girl that's become his best friend. 

Bellamy’s eyebrows knitted a little when Clarke turned to whisper in Abby’s ear. It wasn’t so much the gesture, but Abby’s reaction that made him react as well. She shook her head wildly, tears falling like neverending rivers down her cheeks. 

“Can you tell what she said?” He heard a whisper behind him, registered it as Murphy’s voice, and immediately made the decision to not answer.

He helped this happen. When Clarke died today, her blood would be all over John Murphy’s hands. It will stain his pale flesh, the red shade of his skin a constant reminder of the part he played in killing the person that’d saved him hundreds of times, even when he didn’t deserve it. 

“Enough!” Russel’s voice echoed loudly as he reached for Abby’s wrist and pulled her aside.

“You’ve said your goodbyes. Now, it is time.” 

Bellamy’s heart stopped. The air was torn from his lungs and the saliva was drained from his mouth. 

“What’s going on? Why are there five guns?” Emori asked, panic in her voice. 

Bellamy suddenly felt a body come up from behind him and make its way to his side, displacing Echo where she stood. Bellamy didn’t need to turn to know it was Octavia. Her height and smell was enough evidence. 

“Firing squad,” She answered, voice soft and shallow, “They only put a bullet in one gun so it’s not directly on any one person’s conscience.” 

“On my count.” Russel shouted. 

“Well that’s comforting.” Emori sighed as Octavia took Bellamy’s arm and gently lifted it around her shoulders, burying herself into his side and ducking her head against his shoulder.

“Three.”

Bellamy dismissed any prior hesitations he had about Octavia and squeezed her close to his body, grabbing her hand and letting himself start crying into her dark hair. He needed her now more than ever before. 

“Two.”

Every moment he had with Clarke flashed through his mind. He thought about all of the times he could’ve said more. Every regret he had surrounding her. He should’ve hugged her more. He should have reassured her, and told her how much he loved her and needed her. He should’ve been there for her. He should’ve saved her.

“One.”

He jumped comedically high when the bullets whizzed and then cracked like waves of thunder, the sounds occurring within seconds of one another. The uproar of the crowd followed, and Bellamy originally recognized it as celebration until his eyes finally caught up to his ears and he saw that Clarke was still standing tall and that there was a woman starting to fall not two feet in front of her. 

“Oh my god!” Emori shouted beside him, her voice a mixture of shock and despair.

“Abby…” Echo exhaled, her eyes closing solemnly in something akin to respect and sadness.

“She jumped in front.” Octavia gasped, as if she needed to say the words out loud to assure that what just happened was real. 

The doctor’s knees made a painfully loud crack as they hit the pavement with no relief. It was the loudest noise Bellamy’s ever heard, the sickening clash making his entire body go rigid and numb. Every ounce of weight in her body fell to the ground in a matter of seconds, the collapse mimicking a ragdoll whose strings had been cut. 

Bellamy felt his breaths become more labored and frequent, and his eyes immediately shifted from Abby’s drained and lifeless face to Clarke. In her broken eyes he saw a reflection of himself. 

A reflection of the kid who many years ago had to say goodbye to his own mother, and was never the same because of it. His heart shattered for her loss, the tears gathering under his eyes no longer for the death of his best friend, but for the death of his best friend’s family, blood, and soul. 

He watched with devastated eyes as Clarke tossed and turned in her two chains so much that the clatter they made could’ve easily been the racket of a thousand. She appeared breathless for a moment, and Bellamy felt his heartbeat start quickening like a stampede in his chest, the agony and anticipation building. When she finally stopped her movements, her eyes were clouded with thundering storm clouds and torrential rains. 

“No!”

And suddenly Abby’s collapse wasn’t the loudest sound he’s ever heard. 

Clarke’s yell was ear piercingly loud, a noise that would stick with him until the day he died, and maybe even beyond. It was raspy, like Clarke’s throat was a mess of knives and barbed wire that the word had to crawl through before being exposed to the air. Her voice cracked at the end, the air flushing out of her mouth. If he could describe heartbreak with one sound, that would surely be it. 

Her scream ripped through him down to the thinnest layer of his soul. Goosebumps started forming at the nape of his neck and traveled down to the pointed tips of his fingers and the rapidly numbing ends of his toes. He felt the weight of his body triple, his knees suddenly weak and begging to give out. His heart felt like a deep cavern, hollow yet tremendously heavy. The air in his lungs was ripped away, his chest ceasing it’s natural rise and fall. With each passing second his lips grew drier, his jaw frozen agape. Every cell in his body ached to run to her, but his feet remained cemented to the grass below. If he ran, this would surely all become worse. Clarke was still breathing for the moment, and him moving forward would likely only solidify the end to the entire Griffin bloodline. So against every raw instinct he had, he stayed where he was. 

Chaos erupted, and Russel and the guards immediately tried desperately to calm the crowd down. 

“Enough!” He yelled, his voice so intense and sonic that it made Bellamy shiver. 

“An unfortunate event, that was. Very well, there is another bullet in the gun. Now, as the distractions are at bay, we will get what we came here for.” 

Bellamy gaped, his hand tightening on Octavia’s arm. His eyes were glued to Clarke, who was now hanging completely limp, like she’d given up on any hope she had left. The chains wrapped around her wrists were the only thing keeping her somewhat upright, her head lulling low and body completely placid. He wanted to see her face, but her blonde locks hung low and blocked his view. 

“On my count.” He announced for the second time, tilting his chin up.

“They’re not even going to move her body?!” Emori exclaimed in horror, her eyes staring at Abby’s form that laid unmoving between Clarke and the firing squad.

“Three.”

Bellamy did collapse to his knees this time, taking Octavia awkwardly with him. By now his vision was almost completely blurred by the seemingly endless stream of tears escaping his irises. 

“I can’t lose her.” He whimpered into Octavia’s hair, sobs starting to truly wreck through his body, unrelenting. 

“Two.”

Octavia abandoned Bellamy and he fell to his hands and knees, a gasp of pain escaping his mouth as his palm connected with the rough rocks beneath. He looked up to watch what she was doing, but couldn’t stop his gaze from bouncing back to Clarke.

“Wait!” Octavia screamed so loud and so close to Bellamy that it made him visibly flinch.

Everybody turned and was now peering at his sister. Everyone except Clarke and himself, it seemed. His eyes were glued to her, and her eyes were solely focused on her mother’s body. Clarke’s irises refused to move an inch from Abby, her body as close to her mother’s corpse as it could get given her current constraints. She was probably in shock, Bellamy thought. He knew what that was like. 

“This cycle needs to end!” Octavia yelled, spinning her head around in a half circle to look over the crowd, but making sure her body still faced Russel, “There is blood on all of our hands! Right now you have the chance to be better! We murdered one of yours, that’s true. But you did it first! A woman is dead now. A person has died today because of all of our sins! A life for a life! If you kill Clarke now, you’re taking an extra life just to prove a point. Be better than that! We must stop killing! Don’t leave a young girl motherless because of vengeance!”

Bellamy was impressed, but the nerves and despair he felt regarding Clarke’s imminent situation made it difficult to feel anything else. Still, when O reached down with her hand in a silent offer to pull him up, he took it willingly. He stood with pride next to his sister as she alone gave Clarke her best damn chance. 

“You have the ability to show your people you can be merciful! You can show them that you understand and follow the rules of justice, or you can show them that you are only after revenge.” Octavia continued, squeezing Bellamy’s hand as a small smirk crawled up her lips, “Choose.” 

So much was encompassed in that one word. So many trials and tears. Right now Octavia was making it mean something else. She was being someone else. This person made Bellamy feel something he hadn’t felt in a very long time: Hope. 

Russel seemed to be contemplating, and the minutes passed like years as he paced. Eventually he stopped and pulled aside a few others into a small circle where they appeared to be conversing. Right now, the fact that Russel didn’t immediately shut his sister down was a win.

“Thank you, O.” Bellamy whispered, lowering his gaze to connect with her sullen eyes.

She shrugged, a sad smile on her face and in her eyes, “Don’t thank me yet. For all we know they’re deliberating on whether or not they should put me up there too for speaking out of turn.” 

“No they’re not.” Bellamy spat out before she even finished, his eyes crazed.

Octavia raised her eyebrows just slightly, “Sorry, I was half kidding. They’re probably not.” 

He could tell she was saying it to ease his conscience, but he was breaking down at the thought of Octavia on a stake too. 

“I cannot lose both of you, O. I can’t lose the two people that I…” He choked on the words, not able to articulate the feelings he’d buried down for so long.

Octavia sighed and her shoulders sagged as she sighed and leaned into him, “I know, big brother.”

He let himself lean on her too, let the vulnerability seep  
out of his pores as they watched the animated conversation in the center of the arena. Clarke was still unmoving, and Bellamy was starting to grow worried about that now, too. 

When Russel finally turned towards the crowd, there was immense confliction swirling in his eyes and drawing lines deep between his brows. 

“Clarke Griffin will be released under the condition that the earth people agree to leave Sanctum immediately. If you refuse to respect the banishment, we won’t stop at killing Clarke. You have two days to get your things in order.” He announced, hands folded in front of his chest in a prayer like position.

The crowd went deafeningly loud, the ground pulsing underneath Bellamy’s feet as the grass became a natural subwoofer. Some of the patrons were spitting over others, hissing and growling like wild animals. Items of clothing and food alike found themselves being thrown to the center of the area, landing by Russel’s feet and even so far as near Clarke’s stake. Other yells were cheers of joy and relief, largely from his own people, but also from the small amount of pacifists that resided within Sanctum’s walls. It was utter chaos, charged but upheaval and dismay. 

Bellamy found himself and his friends being forced against the fence in front of them as the crowd behind them caved in. They pushed forward, bodies growing tighter and tighter together. 

Russel didn’t appear phased, gesturing with a steady hand for the crowd to calm down as he paraded up to Clarke. She remained unmoving as the older man pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked each of her chains. She still remained stringed up however, by the tangles in the restraints and the various loops they’d been raveled in. 

He stepped away calmly, head held high, and despite her newfound freedom, Clarke didn’t budge a muscle.

“Everyone will return to their lives immediately.” Russel yelled, staring at the crowd.

The people of Sanctum dispersed, not needing to be told twice. It was down to nearly half the amount of people that were originally there when Russel turned to Bellamy.

“Let them pass.” He instructed, and before Bellamy could register what was happening, his legs were carrying him to the gate, which was slowly coming ajar. 

He raced through, Octavia and the others on his heels. He didn’t see Russel leave but knew that he must have given the slam of a concrete door not ten yards away. Bellamy winced as he sprinted passed Abby’s body, his legs momentarily slowing down as scorching hot bile licked up his throat. 

He swallowed it down, however, once he saw Clarke. She looked even worse up close, radiating a sense of emptiness and absolute devastation. 

He slowed his pace and approached her slowly, carefully. Maybe he shouldn’t have expected her to look up at him, but still when her gaze didn’t budge it hurt on a cellular level. 

“Hey, Clarke,” Bellamy whispered, reaching up slowly with one hand and gently cradling her jaw in his palm, “I’ve got you, okay?”

Her eyes stayed low and didn’t so much as flinch when he spoke. He reached up with his other hand and carefully brushed a few loose strands of blonde hair behind her ears so he could see her face. There weren’t words for the sorrow he saw there. 

Her light skin was the canvas of a graveyard, pale and gray. There was no longer sadness or grief, but rather utter brokenness etched into the lines of her face. The blue of her wondrous eyes was no longer that of a teal and beautiful ocean, but the rough navy of a monstrous tsunami. 

“We’re gonna get you down.” Octavia whispered from Clarke’s other side, her eyes sad and dim.

She handled Clarke with such gentle and caring hands that Bellamy barely recognized her. Tears welled in her eyes as she reached one hand up to rest on Clarke’s shoulder before lowering her other hand to work on freeing her from the chains. Murphy and Echo were helping silently, each pulling at various constraints and unwinding them so her limbs fell freely in single file. 

Madi was off to the side, wrapped in Emori’s arms. Bellamy was thankful that she was keeping her away from this mess. Clarke wouldn’t want her daughter to see her like this. 

“Clarke?” Bellamy tried again, using his grip on her chin to gently guide her head towards him until her gaze settled on his. 

It was dark and eerie at first, but then her eyebrows furrowed slightly. Her eyes were glass just waiting for the right moment to shatter. Somehow she looked so much more frail than before, cheeks sunken in and dark circles under her eyes. 

She still didn’t speak a word, but her stare gave him confirmation that she was at least hearing him. 

“You’re safe now. Everything’s going to be okay, just hold on for us, alright?” He cooed, sliding his palm over her hair in an attempt to soothe her, “Hold on for me.”

He was so lost in Clarke’s eyes and face that he didn’t notice her hand coming up to gently grasp his forearm until it was there. He swallowed thickly, looking down momentarily to see Echo staring up at him, hands clasping the chain that just fell freely from Clarke’s arm. She gave Bellamy a small nod before crawling over to Clarke’s ankles, starting to unravel the chains around those as well. 

Octavia set her other arm free and Clarke immediately started to fall forward, her weight no longer being held up by the restraints. Bellamy was forced to stumble back a few inches to catch her, the awkward collapse of her body making him shift to find leverage. Her ankles held her back, the chains restricting her from moving in any sort of way without falling forward completely. Clarke’s hand slipped from Bellamy’s arm as he moved his own hands from her face to her shoulders, firmly gripping the bones and holding her up until she could stand herself. 

Clarke was now staring over his shoulder and down at the unmoving body behind him. Her body sagged and he released her shoulders, instead wrapping his arms around her and gently caressing her back. 

“It’s gonna be okay.” He comforted, bringing a hand up to run through her hair. 

He let her head fall into the crook of his shoulder, knowing her gaze was still glued to her mother. Her arms remained limp by her sides but still, Bellamy didn’t move. He held her close until finally her ankles were released.

The moment the chains clattered to the floor and Murphy let out a sigh of unbridled relief, there was a hand on Bellamy’s chest, pushing him away. He looked down with surprise, pulling away from Clarke just enough to look down and see the small fingers of her left hand spread over his right pec. She was looking down and forward still, and with all of the strength she had, which wasn’t saying much in the moment, she pushed Bellamy away and walked passed him like she was being pulled by a magnetic force. 

She only got a couple feet before Octavia was running in front of both her and Bellamy and grabbing her forearm. She tugged Clarke just enough to make her look at her, her stomach rising and falling with a dramatic breath as she looked over the blonde’s face.

“Maybe you should wait until we’ve cleaned her up,” She whispered with remorse, her hand sliding down to Clarke’s hand and giving it a comforting squeeze, “She wouldn’t want you to see her like this.” 

Clarke closed her eyes momentarily, lowering her head in thought for a matter of seconds before lifting it up again. She appeared to squeeze Octavia’s wrist back, then she turned her head to look at Bellamy, as if searching for anything to make this better in his face. He didn’t know what to do, or what she expected from him. All he could bring himself to do was nod minutely, eyes watering over when she gave him the saddest smile in response. She turned back to Octavia and then shifted her head so she could look at her mother.

“I need to do this.” She whispered, and the fragile octave to her voice made Bellamy want to collapse. 

Bellamy hated seeing her in such conflict and pain, but also knew that if this is what Clarke needed, it was necessary for her to do it. If she fought against her instinct now, she’d never get the closure she deserved. She’d never make peace. 

Octavia looked like she was about to protest, holding Clarke’s wrist a little tighter when she made a move to step towards her mom again. 

Bellamy felt heat flood his chest and on instinct he stepped forward, immediately closing the distance between him and his sister. He placed his hand firmly over Octavia’s and gently peeled it off of Clarke’s, finger by finger. 

“Let her go, O.” He instructed with genuinity before turning to Clarke and nodding softly, “Go to her. I’ll be here when you’re done.” 

Clarke’s lip quivered as she turned to him, head tilting in silent appreciation. He nodded assertively, swallowing down his own sorrow in hopes of projecting some strength and stability to her. This thing between them went both ways, and he was the one that needed to be the grounding force right now. She needed it more. 

When she all but ran to her mother’s body, every step she took pulled the rope around his heart tighter, constricting his chest and making it painful to breathe. 

“She’ll be okay, Bell.” He heard a small voice from his left, and turned only momentarily to look at his sister. 

It was hard to even remotely agree with that statement when he was watching Clarke fall to her knees inches away from her deceased mother. 

He sighed, ducking his head down in an unfruitful attempt to get a handle on his emotions, “How do you know?”

Octavia reached for his hand then, and he didn’t necessarily take it, but also didn’t push it away. She leaned against him then, intertwining not just their hands but their arms as well. Her cheek rested easily against his shoulder. 

“The same way you do,” She answered quietly, closing her eyes in what he could imagine was a gesture of respect to their own mother, “And because she’s the strongest person I know.”

Bellamy shook his head softly, eyes still glued to Clarke. He watched as she leaned down and pressed her forehead to Abby’s shoulder, her own shoulders starting to shake almost violently with her cries. Her hands rested on her mother’s cheeks, thumbs stroking the pale skin. 

“She shouldn’t have to be strong. Not now, not…” He choked on the words, tilting his head back to keep the tears at bay before breathing out and finishing, “Not after everything.” 

“None of this is fair.” Octavia agreed.

He watched Clarke sob for an uncountable number of minutes before he was suddenly being pulled away by his friends. 

This time it was his eyes that were glued.

——————-

For such a strong and powerful person, she looked so small like this. 

She was sitting on a log alone, far off from anyone else. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms crossed over her shins. Her chin rested easily on her left knee, tears steadily flowing down her pale cheeks. She didn’t appear to be crying, no shaking shoulders or scrunched up facial features- the tears were just running down her face naturally, like it had been happening her entire life. The blonde hair that used to be a halo was now apparent as more of a curtain with the sole purpose of hiding the emotions ransacking her face. 

She barely even flinched when Bellamy sat down beside her. Her eyes stayed staring forward in space, mind clearly racing behind the windows to her soul. 

He let out a sigh as his eyes settled on her.

“Clarke-”

“It should’ve been me.” 

He knew it was coming, but that didn’t make hearing it any easier. 

It wasn’t her fault, and he thinks deep down she knows that. It’s just that she has an unrelenting tendency to blame herself whenever something went wrong. After all, he would know. He had the exact same one. 

“It’s not your fault Clarke,” He sighed, eyeing her with unwavering sincerity. 

She stayed looking straight, walls slowly building up around her. She didn’t seem phased at all by his words, and he didn’t expect her to be. 

“Look, if you really want to blame somebody, blame me,” He shrugged, “I’m the one who distracted the guard and let Abby slip through in the first place.” 

She turned towards him at that, because of course she did. When it was about guilt on anyone’s conscience but her own, she was eager to shut it down. He just wished she had an ounce of that same inclination when it came to herself. 

“Hey, no. I don’t blame you.” Clarke asserted as she furrowed her eyebrows intensely, her eyes staring deep into his own in a gesture that dared him to fight her. 

He knew trying to tell her she was wrong was a lost cause. 

“Well, you shouldn’t blame yourself.” Bellamy rebutted instead, raising his eyebrows. 

Clarke shook her head slightly as she turned to face forward again, pursing her lips and letting out an audible deep breath. Her head tilted back slightly in an effort to halt the tears from falling. It hurt him to see her trying to conceal vulnerability. 

Doesn’t she know by now that she doesn’t have to pretend in front of him?

“You don’t have to be okay right now, Clarke,” He whispered, peering down at his own hands, folded in his lap.

She didn’t respond and his heart started pounding with anxiety. Did he say something wrong?

He brought his head up to look over at her once again, and jolted back just slightly when he saw her staring at him. There was a wonder and sorrow in her eyes, both emotions twisting in and out of each other in a messy hurricane. 

When their eyes finally met, she looked away. She brought a hand up to wipe away a tear Bellamy didn’t even notice had fallen. 

With a voice so broken it was almost hollow, she announced, “I’m an orphan.”

Her eyes were wide and empty, like the tide being pulled back into the ocean, gathering into a wave forming yards away, growing, and growing, and growing. 

Before it could crash the shore and wipe out the beach with colossal power, Bellamy was reaching out for her. 

“Come here.” He mumbled as he pulled her into his arms. 

She practically crashed into him, her head landing in the crook of his neck and her hands intertwining behind his back, holding him as close as she could. He lowered his chin to rest on her shoulder, one hand coming up to stroke her hair and the other drawing soothing circles over her back.

“I’m not going to tell you that it’ll all be fine or that it’ll get better,” He whispered in her ear, genuinity in his tone, “The truth is, it’s gonna get a lot worse.”

She hiccuped over her cries a little at that, and despite how difficult it was to tell her, Bellamy knew that Clarke needed the truth. She didn’t deserve sugarcoating or understatements. She needed to prepare and really understand what was about to happen. Bellamy wished someone told it to him straight when he was in that position. 

“Everywhere you look you’re going to see her. She’s all you’re gonna think about and it’s gonna hurt,” He continued, tears now silently cutting paths down his own cheeks, “But then? Then it will slowly start to get better. Time will pass and before you know it, you’ll start thinking about her in good ways. You will be able to laugh and smile about her without crying… You’ll remember the happy memories.” 

Clarke nodded slowly, and he didn’t see it so much as feel it against his neck. His skin was already wet with her tears, but God, right now he couldn’t care any less about something so subliminal. 

“Do you still think about your mom?” She asked so quietly it took him a few seconds to hear, and nevermind process the words. 

But once he did, he answered without an ounce of hesitation.

“Every day.” 

She whimpered a little and held him even closer, which he honestly thought was impossible. He tangled his fingers in her blonde locks, massaging her scalp with gentle strokes. 

“Thank you, Bellamy.” She mumbled before starting to pull off of him, her cheeks now muddled over with rivers of fallen tears. 

He shook his head immediately, reaching up to swipe the tears off of her face with gentle strokes of his thumb, “You never have to thank me.” 

“Like that’ll ever stop me.” She smirked a little, her voice a little teasing despite the unbridled sorrow her still shining in her eyes. 

He smiled a little back, knowing the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. He felt a wave of calm settle over him like a blanket as he looked into her eyes. There was this glowing presence to her, and suddenly he knew what he had to say.

“You know I love you, right?” 

He didn’t know what he expected her reaction to be. She wouldn't be shocked, he knew that. They’ve been best friends for years and the love they had for each other ran deep. They’d never said it out loud because it never felt like it needed to be said. It was a feeling encompassed by years at each other’s side. So, no, she wouldn’t be shocked. Confused, maybe. It was unspoken up until this point and it wouldn’t surprise him if she thought: Why now? 

She didn’t seem to feel that either though. Her expression remained practically the exact same as before those words were said except for a minimal softening of her eyes. 

“I do know,” She smiled softly, nudging into him just slightly in a gesture that bordered on playful, “I love you, too.” 

He smiled back at her, eyes still connected to hers in a steel lock. 

Bellamy broke first, looking away and grimacing as he announced, “We do need to head back soon, get our people the hell out of here.” 

That’s the thing that sucked about all of this. They’ve lost so many people over the years and never did they ever get the chance to just take two seconds and grieve. It was also about what came next. How do we survive? 

“Can we just stay here for a few more minutes, please?” She swallowed, eyes drooping as she whined almost like a child. 

Bellamy leaned backwards and dragged her towards him so her head could rest on his shoulder as he sighed,

“Whenever you’re ready.”


End file.
